A Striking Affair
by happydemonhobo
Summary: Face finds himself in a 'stinging' situation. Takes place a little over a year after the Tuco event.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own The A Team, the characters belong to their creators and such.

**Author's note:** My first 'The A Team' movie story. See end of story for comments.

**Summary: ** Face finds himself in a 'stinging' situation. Takes place a little over a year after the Tuco event.

**Rated: T **(language)

**A Striking Affair**

"Damn IT!" Lieutenant Templeton 'Face' Peck swore for what had to have been the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. He was losing time, but so far not to anyone's schedule except the one in his own head…and he _hated _it.

Trying to maneuver up the rocky, sanding slop, he cursed himself for not thinking of this unforeseen obstacle during their planning. At not taking the time to really study the map of the terrain, of course none of the others had either, but he'd never blame them, it was his responsibility. Once Hannibal gave him his orders, it was his responsibility to see to them with what he, and the team, needed for the mission, he was the supply officer after all. And not planning for this was why he was losing time, he was having to basically mountain climb. He needed to be as high up as possible, for the best view of course, which meant he needed to get up the highest hill.

He was almost to the top when he felt his feet slipping on loose rocks. Before he could compensate, his left leg completely gave out. Sliding a few feet down, he cursed even more as he felt the leg, almost up to the knee, slip into a crevice and lodge there.

Reaching down to try and free his foot only caused him to slip more and he bit his lip to keep from screaming when he felt the foot twist in an unnatural way. Rethinking, he managed to grab a good hold of the hill with his hands and tried to lift/rotate the leg out. It didn't budge, swearing again, he repositioned his grip and pulled hard, freeing it, but not before tearing the leg of his tan cargo pants, freeing it from where he'd had it tucked in the boot.

Laying as flat as he could against the slope, wasting time he couldn't afford, he tried to catch his breath and control the pain.

"Great." He muttered sarcastically, looking down at the leg as best he could. "There goes my best pants."

Needing to ignore the pain, he continued to climb, finally making it to the spot he wanted to be. There was just enough of a slope for him to lay on his stomach where he slipped his smallest sniper rifle from its cloth sling case, which was slung across his back. He focused the scope even as he began scanning the village laying below, less than a mile away, recalling what he could about the small town of Ar Rujbah, it was in the western Al Anbar province of Iraq. Population was only about 55, 000, occupying a strategic location on the Amman-Baghdad road.

"DAMN it!" He hissed again, finally getting the scope focused, trying to control his panic because of the lost time. Only letting out a heavy sigh of relief when spotted his teammates, Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith and Captain James 'H.M.' Murdock, making their way west along the main village road. They were further along the route than he wanted them to be, but he couldn't do anything about it now. He had wanted to be the one to go with Hannibal, to interpret, but he was told he was needed for cover. At least Murdock knew enough of the language so they hadn't had to drag someone else along.

You could call it one of his 'pet peeves', but he preferred to have all the time he could get to be in position when he was called upon for his sniper skills. Hannibal sort of knew that and had allowed him an extra five minutes. Which he'd already lost trying to get up the damn hill.

He really couldn't blame Hannibal for not understanding his annoyances. No one but another sniper would understand how you worked and what all 'obstacles' usually lay in your way getting to a prime spot. Distracting people, having to go another route, which may take longer. Not to mention 'feeling' out the weather conditions, wind and rain, even heat and cold, could make things a lot harder and then there was the rifle itself.

He was lucky on this mission in that he didn't have to conceal it. Already having it assembled and across his back help save some time, but sometimes he had to find creative ways to get it into places. Most times meant breaking the weapon down and hiding it in clothes, bags and such. That always meant extra time to reassemble, focus it, and get into position. Plus most snipers had a 'spotter' with them, he preferred to work alone, but sometimes Hannibal would be with him.

Calculating he had lost not only his extra five but another five minutes in the schedule, he checked to make sure the last of his teammates, Corporal Bosco 'B.A.' Baracus, was in position, just outside the main entrance to the village. It had taken the big guy, who was a mechanical genius, only two days to get the old 80's Chevy truck up and running to his liking. Now he was in civilian clothing, which was just a robe, but with a keffiyeh covering his head and face to help try to conceal his African American heritage. He was leaning over the open hood, making it look like the truck had broken down so, hopefully, no one would question why he was where he was.

With the lost time Face was now forcing his body and mind to relax faster than he liked. Which was another thing any sniper would tell you, they needed time to get into the _zone_ as they had come to call it. He personally liked to have two minutes to just, well, _melt_ would be a good word, into his zone. Not too many people could do what he does, which in blunt terms, was to _'kill people'_. Not too many people could lay in one position with a finger on a trigger and an eye stuck to a scope for what could be hours. Though the bigger one was not too many people could kill without remorse. Oh, he had remorse, each death taking a small piece of his soul, but he could also tell himself that this was war and it was either him or one of his team and every time he would choose his team, even at the risk of his own life. And when it came time for him to meet his maker, it'll just be between him and God when he had to answer for what he's done.

Hannibal had had a hard time over the years they have been working together in breaking him, of what could be called another pet peeve, in that he would almost get himself killed trying to save someone else, even civilians. Face had learned to back off…some, knowing that after the mission he would get an ear full about how his life was just as important as anyone else's, or the better one, risking his life put others in danger. He never asked or wanted anyone to risk their life to save his sorry ass. And no one, not even the great Hannibal Smith would ever get him to change his mind, or his ways. He would _always_ do what he felt was right and then live, or not, with the consequences.

He would have to force himself not to roll his eyes as Hannibal lectured the same speech each time he did something reckless. He could recite the speech word for word and after it was over, the Colonel would make him do extra training, running the obstacle courses a few more times, adding more miles to his run, while not really giving him the extra time to finish. But Face just saw it as a way of improving himself and took it all in stride, thus personally pissing Hannibal off more.

Face would never admit out loud that the older, silver haired man, had become a mentor of sorts. One of two men he ever truly come to respect, the other being the Father from the orphanage he grew up in and was proud when the Colonel chose him to be in his unit. It was considered an honor and a privilege to be chosen by the legendary Colonel. Sure they were friends, but they were teammates first and teammates came and went, either going home, rotating out, or getting killed and it wasn't the Colonel's fault his LT had a suicidal tick. He would admit, they worked very well together, seeming to become two sides of the same coin in thoughts and ideas, especially when the team had whittled down to just the two of them. Face had always wondered why Hannibal had kept him after the team had disassembled over the years, but he never asked, thinking he would foul up royally anyways and get kicked out of the Army. It had only took the Tuco affair to make that fear a possible reality, he was still considered a foul up and would probably always be in Hannibal's eyes.

Not only had Hannibal kept him though, he added the Captain and the Corporal to the team. And boy, have things sure changed. It had only taken their first meeting in the van to know that B.A. and he wouldn't get along. After all, the man had been forced by Hannibal, even shot in the arm, to save his 'pretty boy' ass. But wait, hadn't he returned the favor when he'd kept the Corporal from falling out of a helicopter? Whatever, it didn't matter, he knew he could rub people the wrong way and he really didn't care if people liked him or not.

In the time, a little over a year now, they have been working together, he always felt B.A. only tolerated him for Hannibal's sake. B.A. had told Hannibal, when the Colonel had made him officially part of his team, that he wouldn't mess up this time, that it was an honor to work with the legendary Hannibal Smith and Face was sure the man wasn't going to do anything to screw that up. Though it was common for B.A. to taunt Face when Hannibal wasn't around. Calling him a con-man, a scammer, though Face has yet to hear one complaint from the man about how or where he obtains the parts for his 'precious' motorcycle, at most receiving a grumbled 'thanks'. Hell, when Face had showed up with the 'creatively acquired' truck they were using on this mission, B.A. had acted like a kid at Christmas and immediately began making a list of things he needed to spruce it up. The Corporal also saw Face as nothing more than a reckless pretty boy who was probably from Cali and had some rich parents living in a mansion on the beach. Had only joined to rebel against his parents or his father must have been some military big-wig and was continuing the family patronage. On top of that he was a womanizer, chasing anything in a skirt, and boy if the Corporal only knew his hinges swung both ways when it came to that. No one, not even Hannibal knew that little secret. The big guy had even flat out asked why Face had stayed in the Army as long as he had and was not back in the states, partying it up, blowing his trust fund. Murdock had warned B.A. to watch his mouth, that Face had every right to tell Hannibal, but was just as surprised as B.A. when Face would just laugh and said, "What, it's not like it isn't true", part of it at least.

People thought he got the nickname Face because of his good looks, but he like to think he got it for all the _faces_ he could create. He was able to become whoever the person wanted him to be, something he had perfected over the years, when he realized no one wanted to know him, just what he could do for them. But he learned quickly that he didn't have to put on a face around Murdock and that scared him more than he cared to admit. Captain James 'Howlin' Mad' Murdock, an aviation genius, became another story all together, an enigma. Face found himself being more…himself. Sure he still guarded a lot of things, but he'd been doing that all his life, becoming a learned safety mechanism. Though he now contemplated his own sanity for Murdock was certifiably insane, having actually been freed by Hannibal from a mental institution in Mexico. The two played off each other so easily they constantly drove Hannibal, and especially B.A., crazy with the things they get into. The Captain had even started calling Face his 'best-est buddy' and he didn't mind one bit. Though he felt it had more to do with the way he protected the pilot from B.A. and anybody else who gave him a hard time for being crazy.

Scanning back to Hannibal and Murdock, Face willed the last of his muscles to relax, slowly taking in and letting out deep breaths before flipping on his mike. The two men were not hard to spot now, they were the only ones in U.S. military attire. Not in full combat armor like he would have preferred, but the bare basics of the ACU gear. Boots, tan cargo pants, tan t-shirts, with military (Ranger) patches, they were also wearing local keffiyehs around their necks to hide the mikes, and the only real protection, a light bulletproof vest. They weren't even wearing any leg/arm armor or a helmet and were only carrying side arms. Seeing the pilot's dark blonde hair sticking up in all directions, Face had to hold back a chuckle at not seeing the lanky, yet surprisingly strong, man without his trademark red ball cap and leather jacket.

It was on _very_ strong recommendations from the head honcho, a General by the name of Russell Morrison, in other words, their boss that they go in as non-combative as possible. It was to show good faith, but even Hannibal had argued the reasons. The source for the information they were _supposed_ to be receiving today was not reliable and they hadn't had time to do any more research or checking of the source. They didn't even know exactly _what_ they were supposed to be receiving.

Morrison had called it a 'milk run', not giving it another thought Hannibal and his team couldn't do the job. They have, so far, racked up, this would make twelve if successful, missions. Hannibal had no choice but to accept this one, but only on the condition he do it his own way and of course Morrison had agreed.

Face watched as Hannibal and Murdock paused just short of the stucco structure they were to meet the informant. Watching as Hannibal scanned the surrounding area then look towards Murdock who had been doing the same thing. The pilot gave a slight nod to show that he hadn't seen anything abnormal either.

"Kid?" He barely heard in his ear piece. This would be the only time communications would be made until they were leaving, or something went wrong.

Face made one last sweep of the area, checking on B.A. and not seeing anything out of place either, simply said back, "Clear."

The mike clicked off and the two entered the building, leaving Face to settle in for the long haul. This was the part he hated the most, not being able to see his teammates and not knowing how long the wait. Hannibal had said to give them an hour, but god he hoped it wouldn't take that long. The sand was starting to itch like a SOB, only his training kept him from fidgeting. His left foot was starting to throb and something was tickling/prickling along the leg as well, probably just the sand, but he blocked it out, his eye never leaving the scope that was focused on the door separating him from his teammates.

He wished he could at least hear what was being said, but again Hannibal had not wanted the risk of being caught with 'sursar' as the locals called them. It actually means 'cricket' like the insect, but he knows they really mean 'bug' so they would keep radio silence. Deciding to check the windows, he noticed all of them were covered as well, no hope for a visual. "Damn." He breathed.

A half an hour passed, the itching was still there as well as the throbbing, but the tickling/prickling feeling had stopped and his eye still hadn't left the door.

All of a sudden, as per usual with them, everything went to hell in a hand-basket. The door flew open with the force of someone kicking it, followed by Murdock and then Hannibal. Gun fire could be heard echoing as the two fired behind them. Face didn't even blink as he began firing at anybody else who came through the door. It was game on now. He hadn't been given the direct order to kill, but would if he had to, knowing Hannibal would back him up with the higher ups if needed. So he only clipped them in the leg or shoulder as they came into view, counting six before the flow of people stopped pouring out the door, having finally realized someone was out there taking shots. Gun fire still sounded and Face moved to keeping them pinned inside, taking shots when he saw someone looking out the door or window.

Face didn't take the time to look to see how far his teammates had gotten as he concentrated on the building. He finally heard a slightly out of breath voice over his mike. "Face…move."

Taking a few more shots, he emptied the rifle before making his way back to the drop off/pick up spot. He had to make the almost a mile faster now as B.A would be coming in hot and it didn't help that he had twisted his ankle. Not hearing anything but his own breathing and racing heartbeat, he managed to get the rifle back into the sling on his back as he headed back down the dune. Slipping and sliding, he lost his footing and fell the last ten feet or so. Landing hard on his feet, he felt the pain from his left foot shoot up to his hip before diving into a roll. Scrambling back up, he picked up speed when he got to more solid ground. From the higher elevation he could see a trail of dust from the corner of his eye, knowing it was B.A. heading to intercept him at the bottom. B.A was flooring it and he could now make out even more gun shots.

He heard Hannibal through the mike. "Rear contact!" Followed by a higher pitched sound of automatic gun fire. Thank god he'd convinced Hannibal to risk having three of their preferred M4 Bushmasters hidden in the bed covered by hay and old blankets.

Running on pure adrenaline, Face was able to ignore the pain, but just as he was about a hundred yards from the road, he felt a sharp sting on his left calf.

Stumbling, he managed to keep from completely falling, but the pain was now excruciating. There were feelings of pins and needles, along with a tingling like it was falling asleep. 'What the hell.' He thought, had he been shot?

They must of taken care of their pursers as he heard Hannibal tell B.A. to 'slow down' and could just imagine the big guy yelling at him to get his 'lily white ass in gear'. Seeing the truck rounding the bend, he managed to put on one last burst of speed.

Just as the truck slowed near him, not coming to a stop, he dove into the back, feeling hands helping him stay in as the truck immediately picked up speed.

Laying there on his side trying to catch his breath was when he realized something was wrong. He _couldn't_ feel his left leg, but worse he couldn't catch his breath, he couldn't even breathe, only managing wheezing sounds, and his vision was starting to gray.

Unfastening the straps holding the rifle to Face's back, Hannibal joked. "Come on Face, you're not that out of shape", but when he helped Face roll over onto his back he saw true fear in the normally bright blue eyes. "FACE!" He yelled noticing the blue tinge on his lips.

"Colonel?" Murdock questioned after hearing him yell. Looking at Face, he got down next to him and began checking for injuries. Not seeing any visible blood, he noted the blue lips, wheezing and now Face's face was starting to swell, looking to Hannibal he said. "It looks like he's having an anaphylactic fit."

Hannibal had come to rely on Murdock's instincts when it came to anything medical, the pilot just seemed to know about things like this, the man had after all been in and out of numerous hospitals over the years.

"Face." Hannibal said softly trying to calm the young man. "Look at me." He ordered placing his hands on either said of his face, trying to get him to focus. "You're going to be fine, just concentrate on breathing…that's an order." He knew Face never refused an order from him and hated he had made it one.

Face's cheeks were puffing and his eyes watery as he wheezed in short breaths, but he managed to look at his Colonel. He heard something about an order. 'God Hannibal…not now.' He thought. 'I just want air'. Forcing himself to concentrate on the Colonel's lips, to help make out what he was being told, he barely made out over his pounding heart, blooding rushing in his ears and watery eyes. "Do you hurt anywhere?" He didn't think he could speak so he nodded his head as best he could and weakly tapped his left leg.

Following the length of the leg, Hannibal noticed the rip at the bottom and pulled Face's knife from his thigh holster. Slicing up the pant leg, he made it just past the knee when something jumped out onto the bed, but before he could make out what it was, Murdock, who had stood up completely, even though he was in a moving truck, stomped a foot down, smashing it.

B.A. was trying to watch through the rearview mirror after hearing the Colonel's concerned voice. Seeing the pilot standing up, staggering to keep his balance in the moving truck, he yelled. "SIT DOWN yo'fool!"

"Nasty fugly little suckers." Murdock muttered.

B.A. boomed back. "WHO YOU CALLIN' A UGLY SUCKER?"

While reaching under one of the blankets trying to find their gear bag, Murdock addressed B.A. "I said FUGLY...you know, fuckin' ugly." He clarified finding the first aid kit. "And you're the big ugly mud sucker. I was talkin' about a species of Hadrurus…an Arachnida to be more precise…"

B.A. voice started yelling god knows what through the mike, something about the fool falling out of the truck and killing his fool self. Seeing Face flinch, Hannibal pulled the receiver out of his ear. Pulling his out too, he studied the red swelling and a blister about the size of a quarter on Face's calf. Taking off his scarf, he tied it tight about three inches above the site, not knowing if it would do any good now.

"A SCORPION! …you big lug." Murdock yelled back.

"WHAT…WHERE?" B.A. was yelling still trying to look through the rearview mirror and keep his eyes on the road.

"Boss." Murdock called, ignoring B.A. "I found an epipen…but…" His voice trailed off.

Hannibal's head had shot up at the word scorpion. "But what?" Face was still breathing, but it was in short, quick, gasps. They needed to get him medical treatment fast or he could suffer brain damage, or worse death.

"It's…" Murdock began, looking at the packaging again to make sure he had read it right. "It's expired." He answered.

"Give it to him." Hannibal ordered, already cutting Face's other pants leg at the thigh so they could get a direct shot. By the time he ripped the silk boxers, Murdock had the pin ready to use and jabbed the needle into the flesh, plunging the medicine in.

Face barely register the action, only letting out a grunt, his eyes were closed and he wasn't moving, hopefully following Hannibal's order to just breathe.

"Face." Hannibal said moving up to get a better look at the man. Not getting a response, he checked his pulse at the neck, which was beating fast, and watching the quick rise and fall of his chest. Within a few minutes Face's breathing had eased and his pulse was down, but it was still not good enough. The young man also appeared to have lost consciousness.

'As long as he keeps breathing.' Hannibal thought to himself as he pulled the little window open to the truck's cab. "B.A.!" He yelled. "How close are we?!"

Picking up a hand held G.P.S., B.A. yelled back. "Thirty minutes!"

'Thirty minutes, damn.' Hannibal repeated to himself. Trying to keep his voice neutral to keep himself from panicking, he relayed. "At five, get on the horn and radio for medics to meet us at the gate, we have a soldier suffering from what appears to be an allergic reaction to a scorpion sting."

"Got it." B.A. confirmed keeping his eyes on the road.

Murdock had wedged himself into a corner of the bed and had managed to pull Face up against his chest. The pilot kept brushing Face's sweaty hair, rocking and whispering things he couldn't make out, leaving Hannibal with a pain in his chest as he felt it should be him offering comfort to the Lieutenant.

The truck picked up a little more speed and it seemed like forever, yet seconds, they were being cleared through the base gates. The medics were there and in a swarm of activity they had the Lieutenant out of the bed, on a gurney, rushing him to the medical unit.

B.A. had gotten out and was standing beside the truck, frozen, watching the swarm of activity, trying to hear Hannibal as he told the medic what he knew. When Face had been whisked off he looked to his teammates and saw nothing but fatigue and worry.

He was about to asked what the hell happened when he heard a familiar voice call out.

"Hannibal."

Rubbing his hand along his face and neck, Hannibal turned around from watching his lieutenant disappear to see General Morrison heading their way.

"Russ." He sighed back.

"I just got word…I take it the mission was more of a goat rope?" Russ asked.

Taking in and letting out a deep, frustrating breath before answering Hannibal only said. "It was a complete cluster-fuck. A certified cluster-fuck."

Seeing the man was waiting for more, he added. "I don't know what they were trying to do, but it wasn't to give us _information. _I don't know if they wanted to use us as hostages, flat out kill us or what…I decided it wasn't worth sticking around long enough to find out."

"And Face?" Russ asked having seen the lieutenant being carried off by medical.

Hannibal blew out another frustrating breath. "I had him covering us from about three quarters of a mile out, he was in the outskirts. He apparently had a run in with a scorpion and had a reaction."

Russ let out a low whistle, ending in a muttered, "Damn."

"Yeah", was all Hannibal could say, knowing what the general was thinking, 'what were the chances?'

"Any causalities?"

"I didn't give the order, so Face only clipped them."

"Good boy…we'll know better next time." Morrison said, the only apology they were going to get. He then ordered. "Get cleaned up and rest, you can wait till morning for your report. I'll stop by and see Face later." Not waiting for a reply, just turning and walking away.

Turning to what was left of his team, Hannibal told them. "Get the truck taken care of then get something to eat." Then seeming to note how late it was getting, he added. "Take the rest of the evening off, turn in early."

"But…" Murdock went to complain.

Realizing what he was saying, Hannibal corrected himself. "Do the first two, what you decide to do with your evening is your decision." Knowing at least Murdock would want to go and check on Face.

Leaving them with that, Hannibal headed towards the medical unit, knowing he wouldn't rest until he knew Face was going to be okay.

Stepping up to the desk, he was greeted by someone he knew, Cindy was a nurse he had dealt with before when he had taken a bullet through the arm a few months ago.

"Colonel Smith." She greeted. "What can I do for you…no more bullets I hope?" She joked, but seeing the look on his face she asked. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yeah…" He began, but then cleared his throat before correcting his speech. "Yes, my Lieutenant, Templeton Peck, was brought in earlier."

"Face?" She said, eyes going wide, seemed no matter where they were stationed, every female in a hundred mile radius knew Face. "I just got here, let me see what I can find out. Have a seat, you look like you're about to fall over."

"Thanks." He replied wearily.

Taking a seat, he found his head in his hands, trying to calm himself, telling himself over and over again that Face had been breathing, that they had gotten him help in time, that even though the pen had technically expired that it had helped. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, his thoughts racing, when he heard.

"Boss?"

B.A.'s voice brought him out of his thoughts, he was surprised to him, but not Murdock. They were still dressed in their gear, but B.A. had lost the robe and head scarf and Murdock had retrieved his ball cap "Nothing yet." He told them. "You eat?" He asked for the lack of anything else to say.

Both nodded and B.A. held out a paper cup. "Got'ya some coffee boss."

"Thanks." Hannibal muttered, taking a sip, it was still hot and he noted it had a little more sugar than he preferred.

Murdock handed him a plastic wrapped sandwich. "Gotcha one of these as well."

"Thanks." Hannibal muttered again, but didn't eat it, just putting it on the small table beside him.

Murdock flopped into the chair beside him making B.A. grab another folding chair from across the room and positioned it in front of the two.

After a few moments of silence, B.A. broke it by asking. "Would he want us to contact his parents?" He didn't know how something like this worked, he just knew that if it was him hurt he'd want Hannibal to call his mother. This was the first time he'd known Face to really be hurt, a lot of near misses, cuts and bruises, though in some cases, he didn't think Face was telling them the truth about just how hurt he was. Like a few days after the Tuco event, Face's jaw and mouth were so swollen, he could barely eat or talk, only after being ordered to see the doctor did Face comply. Only to then come back within the hour and say everything was fine. In this case maybe Hannibal was waiting until he got all the information before deciding.

Hannibal was taken aback by the question, then realizing of course the Corporal would want someone to call his mother. He'd learned early on the man was very close to his 'mama'. Taking another sip of coffee to stall how he should reply, he finally said. "I don't think that will be necessary big guy. I'm sure Face will be fine, no need to ship him to Germany…and besides…" Here he stalled again, but the looks he was getting made him continue. "Besides, the only person listed as an emergency contact is a Father Magill and the last time Face mentioned him, the good father wasn't doing so well. I don't think Face would want us to burden him over this."

"Father?" Murdock questioned just as confused as B.A. appeared to be. "You mean as in a Priest…at a church?"

"Yeah." Hannibal sighed, not knowing how much to say. Face was a very private person and hardly ever talked about his past. The only reason he knew about the Father was he had a chance to meet the man when he surprised Face at his graduation ceremony from Ranger school.

Hannibal remembered Face didn't know whether to act surprised or embarrassed when he'd asked if this was his father, noting that the man appeared to be a priest. Face had ran a hand through his hair, which Hannibal had quickly learned was a personality tick the kid had when he was flustered, feeling anxious, nervous, or even embarrassed. "Um…sort of." He began trying to explain. The good father had just smiled and held out his hand, introducing himself. "Colonel Smith, I'm assuming, I'm Father David Magill, I'm here representing The Sacred Hearts Orphanage and I must say 'I am so proud of my boy Templeton'. Thank you for giving him a chance." He then put his arm as best he could around the younger, taller man's shoulder. "And I know a few sisters who are proud as well."

Hannibal tried not to act surprised at the info, Face had just nervously smiled and muttered. "Yeah, I'm sure Sister Kate is proud."

The Father had invited him to join them for dinner, but by the look of horror on Face's face, he politely declined.

Hannibal had went back and read Face's file from page one. When he had been looking for new recruits, he'd been impressed with the kid's skills. Plus, by then, there were all the rumors about how he could procure anything and he had been very impressed with the kid's sniper scores, but he hadn't cared too much about the man himself, until that moment at the graduation. That was when he learned the kid was an orphan, Father Magill listed as his emergency contact, but he also noticed a few _discrepancies_ on Face's birth and education records. He decided to let it slid and still give the man a chance on his team. Face had more than proven himself, the rumors were true, even if he was a little too reckless with his life.

Having been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the other two were still waiting on more of an answer to Murdock's question. "Um…" He tried to start then deciding. "You have to know by now Face is a very private person, so if I tell you this, you can't say anything about it. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you. The only reason I know is that it's in his file."

When he got nods of understanding, he told them. "Face is an orphan."

Murdock's hat immediately came off so he could twist it with his hands, which was one of his personality tick, if he hadn't had the hat, he'd be biting the skin around his nails. B.A. just looked stunned, them not knowing he was thinking back to all the things he taunted the LT about and he never said a word, just smiling and agreeing.

"I think that's why he's reckless sometimes, he doesn't have anyone at home waiting for him so he feels his life isn't worth as much as others." Hannibal said softly, more in thoughts to himself.

They were saved from further talk by the nurse. "Colonel." She said. "The doctor will be out in a few minutes."

Hannibal had stood when he'd seen her. "How..?"

She cut him off, but not rudely. "He looks good to me, but the doctor can tell you more."

"Cindy." Someone called.

They turned to see the doctor, Bracket, Hannibal thought his name was.

"Could you help get the Lieutenant cleaned up, there seems to be a lot of debris?" He asked.

"Sure." She replied giving them a reassuring smile before heading off.

"You the ones who brought Lieutenant Peck in?" The doctor asked.

"Yes." Hannibal said. "I'm Colonel Smith, Face…Lieutenant Peck is my XO." He gestured to the others who also stood. "This is Captain Murdock and Corporal Baracus."

"Gentleman, I'm Doctor Bracket." He greeted with a nod towards them.

Before Hannibal could asked, Murdock spoke up. "Doc, how is he?"

"Is he…" B.A. went to ask.

Bracket held up a hand to stop any more questions. "Let's sit back down and I'll explain everything." As he grabbed a chair, he added. "Let me finish and if you still have questions, I'll try and answer them."

Once they were seated, he began. "First, let me ask you a few questions. Lieutenant Peck was stung in the calf by a scorpion you said."

Hannibal looked to Murdock as he had been the one to actually see the thing.

"Um, yeah it was about this big." He held his fingers about four inches apart. "It was a gold-ish brown."

"Okay, that small, probably a young one." The doctor thought aloud. "It's not really common for someone to have such a severe reaction."

Murdock said softly, still twisting the cap. "Uncommon and rare seems to be Face's luck."

Bracket nodded, continued. "Most scorpions are not poisonous to human, all most people suffer is a what can feel like a bee sting followed by a pins and needles sensation, some swelling. Symptoms usually last about eight to twelve hours. What was he doing at the time of the sting?"

"Running for his life like a Chiroptera from Hades." Murdock supplied.

When both Hannibal and Bracket just raised an eyebrow and B.A. gave a low growl, he sighed heavy, translating. "Like a bat out of hell, okay…happy?" Addressing the last part more to B.A.

Hannibal and B.A. rolled their eyes and Bracket let a small smile play on his lips. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat to get back their attention. "That could have done it. It looks like he was stung twice, young ones usually panic more, though the second sting is usually nowhere near as potent as the first. A sudden adrenaline rush could have made the venom move faster, plus if he was already winded by the run. You did a good job putting the tourniquet on."

Hannibal shrugged. "To be honest, I didn't know if it'd been too late, by the time…" He trailed off.

Shaking his head again, the doctor said. "No, it helped as well as the epipen you used, but I was told it was past its expiration?" The last part had been said more as a question and again it was Murdock who answered.

"Exactly fifteen days." Murdock answered again.

"Well even though they say not to use it after forty-five and even if it only had half its potency it helped. The packaging was still completely sealed I presume?"

Murdock just nodded.

"I'll need to put out word for everyone to check their med kits. They're not used often here, but they still should be kept up to date."

"So he's going to be okay?" Hannibal asked.

"He'll be fine, we have him on an antihistamine and pushing fluids to flush his system. I'd like to keep him over night, but he will need at least four weeks, minimum, of light duty to let his ankle heal." The doctor informed.

"Ankle?" B.A, had been first to ask, he thought the man had been stung in the leg.

"Yes." Bracket said seeing their confused looks he added. "Sorry, I assumed you also knew he twisted his ankle. Severely at that. I wrapped it in an ace bandage for the time being, but once he's cleaned up and settle in a booth, I'll put on a fabric brace. That way it can be tightened easier as the swelling goes down. He shouldn't walk on it for a few days, then light pressure. I'm afraid he'll have to use crutches for a while."

B.A. could only sit there with his mouth hanging open. Face had ran full out with not only a scorpion sting, but a busted ankle as well.

"Any more questions?" The doctor asked getting up.

Getting three shakes of heads, he said. "Okay, I'll see if he's cleaned up and then you can see him for a few minutes then you should all just go back to your tents and get some sleep, he needs his rest as well."

Hannibal stood and shook the man's hand. "Thank you Doc."

"Be right back." He told them.

It was Cindy who came and got them a few minutes later. "You can see him now, but not for long. He needs his rest." She reminded them again as they followed her to a curtained off area. "Because of the meds, he's a little groggy, so don't be surprised if he fades in and out." She told them as she pulled back the curtain.

Thanking her, Hannibal could only stand there taking in the sight of his Lieutenant. "Jesus Kid.", he muttered. Face had been stripped and had a sheet covering him up to the waist. An IV was in his right hand, a heart monitor was going and an oxygen mask was covering his face. His left leg was uncovered to the knee, a bandage wrapped around his calf and an ace bandage around the ankle. There were also many cuts, scrapes and bruises.

Thinking Face was asleep, his breathing wheezy but deeper, he was ready to tell them it was time to leave, but Murdock walked closer to the bed, saying. "Face?"

Moving closer, Hannibal could make out slivers of blue peeking from two buffy eyes. "Hey kid." He said. "You're going to be alright now."

Face barely nodded and his left hand shakenly tried to rise towards his face. Seeing what he was trying to do, Hannibal pulled the face mask off. "Just a few minutes." He told him.

Again Face tried to nod. "Wha…" He ended up croaking. "Whas…ha-pen…shsh-ot." He finally got out. His speech was really slurred.

"No." Hannibal answered.

Murdock told him. "Well muchacho, it seems you picked up an unwanted hitchhiker in your little gambol through the desert."

Smiling at the confused look, Murdock added. "You got stung by a scorpion."

Blue eyes managed to widen, looking to Hannibal, Face slurred. "E fu-kin kidn e."

"I wish he was." Hannibal answered, smiling as well as Face sounded more drunk than groggy. "But he's telling the truth, I'd like to show you it, but the Captain here a…neutralized it."

Eyes turned back to the pilot, who stood ramrod straight and even saluted before saying proudly. "I slayed the evil Arachnida with my mighty foot sheath."

B.A. shook his head and rolled his eyes, fighting not to smile, Hannibal flat out chuckled, but Face managed a lopsided smile, slurring. "Hhnksss buu-yy."

Murdock padded him on the shoulder as Hannibal replaced the mask and told him. "Now sleep, hopefully you'll be out of here in the morning.

"Ooo-ksss." Face slurred, seeming to fall right to sleep.

Hannibal headed out, knowing the other two would follow, but when he cleared the curtain, Murdock right behind him, he turned back for one last look and noticed B.A. was still standing there staring at Face. Before he could say anything, he watched the man pat him on his good leg, whisper something then join them.

A few hours later, Hannibal found himself walking back into the medical unit. He had showered, managed to eat, but when he tried to get some sleep, he just couldn't. Making sure not to disturb the others, he quietly left the tent, it was dark out now and just thinking he needed a walk, enjoy a nice cigar, maybe tire himself out, he found himself instead in the medical unit.

Cindy was at the desk and she looked up as he approached. "Something wrong?" She asked.

Shaking his head, he quickly told her, "No…I was hoping…" He stopped and thought about turning around and leaving. He didn't need to see Face, the man was going to be released in the morning for god's sake.

"It's rather late." She told him.

Seeing he was about to leave, she felt a sudden pity for the man and said. "He's asleep, but you can see him for a few minutes. We transported out most of the patients earlier this evening, it's quieter now."

Hannibal muttered a thanks and looked down the row of beds.

"He's at the end on the right." She told him. "Oh", she stopped him from turning away. "General Morrison stopped by…" She paused as a blush rose on her cheeks. "While I was washing his hair."

Giving her a soft smile, Hannibal could just imagine the cat-fight that was had about who was going to wash the Lieutenant's hair.

Walking down the path there were a few not too seriously injured soldiers, one had his arm in a cast, another had his leg bandaged, most likely a gun shot. A couple were still awake and silently greeted him as he passed. There were a few other nurses as well, they saw him, yet ignored him as he wasn't supposed to be there. He finally came to the only curtained off bed at the end.

Standing there, he studied the man, noting he looked a lot better than earlier. Now laying reclined at a slight angle, sheet pulled up to his chest. His cheeks and eyes showing only the barest of swelling though his breathing was still a little wheezy. The heart monitor had been removed and instead of a full mask, he had a nasal cannula. The left ankle was resting on a pillow, now wrapped in a black and dark blue fabric, velcro brace.

He didn't know why, but he felt the need to touch the man, to feel that he was indeed alive. Thinking back to what Murdock had done in the truck, he decided it was safe to card his hand through the caramel locks, which were still damp from the washing. This felt right, though he was glad Face was asleep, then again he wouldn't have ever thought to do this if the man was awake.

Lord knows this isn't the first time Face has been hurt. Even after receiving a shot through the leg, dislocated shoulder, sprained wrist, cracked rib(s), a concussion, set alight in a stack of tires, so many close calls and, too many to count, bruises, scraps, cuts, contusions, the scorpion sting, by far, was the worse to him. Seeing true fear in those bright blue eyes, watching your LT struggle for each breath and not being able to do anything, not even able to offer comfort tore at his heart.

"I can't ever lose you, kid." He muttered still not understanding why he cared for Face like he did. It wasn't like anything could happen between them anyways, Face was his subordinate first of all, second it was against military policy, and the bigger one was, Face chased anything in a skirt. Sure he cared about all the men that were and had been under his command, but something about Face made him feel different.

When Face took in a deep, shuttering breath, Hannibal's hand immediately stopped, but when the man sighed out the breath and actually tilted his head slightly towards him, he resumed.

Hannibal's thoughts drifted to his former team. There had originally been six of them, Face the newbie and the last to join. Boy, the teasing they would give him, especially when they were on leave, about his dating and how he needed to get laid, if only they knew. Face even offered one time to set him up and go on a double date with him, but he had politely declined, always saying he would rather catch up on paperwork, or read a good book while enjoying a good cigar and a glass of scotch. Oh, don't get him wrong, he found females attractive, in their own busty, curvy ways, but it seemed the ones he leaned towards couldn't handle him and the military life he lived. Since almost everything they did was classified, he could never talk about work and most of his personal interest centers around the military. He like to read about history, bios of great generals, and even his movie tastes leaned towards the military and action. So thus, most women found him boring, even in the sex department because he could never seem to please them.

If he could just find someone he could really talk openly to about work and his interest, what he was going through at the time. The frustration, the jazz, as the others had come to call it, when he was high on his plans, someone…someone like Face, he realized, looking at the man in a different light. Just now seeming to realize the kid has been there for him since the beginning. Listening to him when a he was frustrated with Morrison and the damn mission at the time. Bringing him back down to earth and seeing reason when he got too high on the jazz. Having a cigar right when he felt the need to have one, even a drink at times. Even the times he yelled at the poor kid and Face just taking it and when he was done, Face would just offer him a cigar and/or a drink all the while asking him if he felt better. Though now that he thought about it, most of those times where when Face had been reckless with his life. If only Face could satisfied his sexual needs, but then again he _could not_ go there. In the beginning, when Face first joined, he found himself patting the kid on the back every chance he got, his hand would seem to linger a little too long when he had to touch him and it had taken everything he had to stop himself from continuing to do it. Though Face never seemed to mind, he never flinched or immediately move away, always just smiling at him, but that still didn't mean anything.

Over the two years the team had been together, two men rotated out, deciding not to do another tour. One man had been severely injured during a mission and had been sent home, the last man went home in a casket. Face had taken the death hard, but there was nothing he could have done. The solider had been in a vehicle, traveling in front of them, with another unit, when it hit an IED. Each time a man left, Hannibal hadn't replaced them, though Morrison keep ordering him to. When it had come down to just the two of them, he always wondered why Face had stayed with him. Not going back to the states to find a 9 to 5 job, a wife, have kids. The kid had turned down transfer offers and even reenlisted, twice. But in the end, he was glad to have the man at his back, they worked well together and he found himself thinking of Face as his protégé.

Hannibal had always been 'married' to the Army. Since high school, when he'd realized he was more attracted to men and had even experimented a little, was one of the reasons he joined the Army, to get away from such thoughts and feelings. He'd never been attracted to any of the men who'd served under him, but this man…no, still a boy really, if he was truthful with himself, was different and he just _could not _figure out why. Was it because Face was an orphan and he wanted, no, needed to be a father figure of sorts, try to be a role model, a mentor? Was it because Face was so reckless with his life and needed saving? God knows he's tried to break the kid of his suicidal tendencies, but he just _would not_ listen.

Face was a beautiful man, there was no question about that. He had watched the kid turn into that man over the years they've been together and it had been amazing to see the transformation. Not to many people thought Face was smart, but he was, he was clever, creative, a damn good procurer of stuff, not to mention a phenomenal shot and a polyglot to boot. It just seemed like he deliberately hid his knowledge, letting people think he was just a 'pretty face'. That was how he'd gotten his nickname. Everyone calling him a 'pretty boy/face' or when they were looking for the guy who could get them stuff and couldn't remember his name, it was always. "Hey, you seen that guy, you know, the one with the face?" Or the better one, "that damn kid could be a fuckin' model, just look at that face." When people started calling him Face, the kid just smiled that megawatt smile and let it ride. Though Hannibal had come to see it as something different, he noticed Face would become whoever they thought/wanted him to be, it seemed to come easy to the kid, like an actor.

Like he'd told Murdock and B.A., Face never talked about his past, and he didn't, Hannibal knew no more about the man than the day they met. But why? Was Face embarrassed about his past, was he not wanting to 'rain' on anybody else's parade when they talked about their parents, wives, kids, girlfriends? Did he not want their pity, it was bad enough during mail call. Everyone would get tons of letters/photos from family and friends, boxes of goodies. He would occasionally get a letter, from the father he assumed, and maybe a care package when some organization sent a bunch, but Face would just shrug off the questions, and teasing, when asked. When B.A. had first joined their team, he'd received a big box of cookies from his mama, to congratulate him on being back in the Army. The reinstated Corporal had offered everyone one, but Face had declined. When B.A. had gotten mad, saying, "What, my mama's cookies aren't good enough for you, afraid it'll make you fat?" Face just shrugged, took one and said. "I'm just not too big into sweets big guy." He'd eaten it though and seemed to have enjoyed it, saying. "It was very good, thank you."

Hannibal had never thought about it until that event, but Face didn't eat many, if any, sweets. Always bypassing the dessert section in the mess hall, he didn't even eat those sugary cereals, unlike Murdock, always picking the whole grain or oats type. He could imagine the orphanage not being able to provide such treats, maybe only around Easter or Christmas. He let out a soft chuckle as he realized the kid loved fruit though, even those fruity alcoholic drinks. "Guess you have a sweet tooth after all." He chuckled.

Hearing someone coming closer, he managed to remove his hand from Face's hair and take a step back before the curtain was pulled back. Cindy came in, telling him. "Sorry, but you need to leave now." She proceeded to check the toes of Face's injured ankle before moving to the IV where she injected something. Seeing Hannibal watching, she told him. "It's just a mild pain reliever." After checking a few more things, she left.

Knowing he needed to leave, Hannibal stroked the curls a few more times, taking one last glance to make sure Face's chest was rising and falling. He found himself placing a chaste kiss on the kid's forehead before saying softly. "See you in the morning kid."

Face didn't remember much of anything from the time he dove into the truck to the moment he realized he was in the medical unit. He didn't know if the images and voices he recalled were real or not, had Hannibal ordered him to do something, had Murdock been holding him, talking to him? Things had become a little clearer, but were still foggy. Had the guys been by to see him? Wasn't there something about a scorpion? That could explain the pain in his leg, but then again, he couldn't imagine being bitten. Hadn't Hannibal said something about Murdock doing something and the pilot saying something about slaying it with something? The only thing he recalled clearly was Hannibal telling him to sleep, which he had no problem following. He'd learn later about Morrison stopping by while he was getting his hair washed.

Waking sometime later, he was in that groggy sleep, yet somewhat aware state. Noting he was sitting up some and the annoying heart monitor was gone as well as the face mask, though now his nose itched. His leg and ankle were throbbing and he was thinking about calling for the nurse to see if he could get something for the pain when he sensed someone approach his bed. At first he thought it was the nurse, but then he got the whiff of those all too familiar Cuban cigars, the ones he procured especially for Hannibal. He was about to try and open his eyes when he felt a hand card through his hair. If he hadn't been so tired and drugged, he'd have jumped up yelling, "What the hell!"

"I can't ever lose you, kid." He heard.

'Okay…this is just flat out weird, must be dreaming.' Face thought, to see if he was, he took in a deep, shuttering breath and the fingers stopped. Finding himself sad at that, he let his breath out in a sigh and tilted his head hoping the touch would return. The fingers did return and he found himself really liking it, no one had ever done this for him, oh he'd have women play with his hair during sex, but no one did it when he was sick or hurt, not even as a child would the nuns comfort him. Especially if he was sick, they'd soon just leave him in a room alone, to avoid spreading the bug, only coming in with meals and meds, and even then they wore masks/gloves and such.

He heard Hannibal's soft raspy, more prominent Irish, chuckle. 'Sweet tooth…what the hells in those cigars you suckin' on Colonel?' The hand disappeared, followed by a female voice then the familiar burn feeling of something going in his IV. 'Hopefully this part isn't a dream.'

He was thinking about forcing his eyes open, to try and confirm, but the pull of whatever had been put in the IV was luring him in. The fingers retuned for a moment, but the kiss just about blew his mind. 'Wait, Hannibal's not…oh no, don't even go there, that's not why he did that', he thought. 'He's your superior.' If thoughts like that got said out loud, his ass would be kicked out of the Army faster than he could make the sign of the cross.

"See you in the morning kid", was the last thing he heard as darkness finally pulled him under.

_**The End**_

_**Author's note cont.:**_ Okay, I don't do these, but I felt I needed to explain a few things. First, any medical/military jargon about treating scorpion stings, how scorpions act, military attire/gear and so forth was researched on the internet. So any mistakes are mine and mine alone, that's the nice thing about fiction, right? Second, I know I have B.A. sounding/acting like a bastard, but it ended up working out well for this story as I have an idea for another story and this could be a companion piece, the other story could explain more of why B.A is acting the way he is. I had not planned it that way, but it worked so (shrug)…. Third, I felt that since the four of them have only been working together a little over a year, they're still trying to get to know/work with each other. And even though Hannibal and Face have been together longer, I feel, fourth, Face is a private person, never wanting to burden anyone with his life story. He's always taken care of himself and always puts others before him, thinking he was never going to be around long enough anyways, so why try and make friends. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy.


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